There Is Holiness Even in Drudgery

Focal Point

The priest shall dress in linen raiment, with linen breeches next to his body; and he shall take up the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering on the altar and place them beside the altar. He shall then take off his vestments and put on other vestments, and carry the ashes outside the camp to a pure place. The fire on the altar shall be kept burning, not to go out: every morning the priest shall feed wood to it, lay out the burnt offering on it, and turn into smoke the fat parts of the offerings of well-being. A perpetual fire shall be kept on the altar, not to go out. (Leviticus 6:3-6)

D'var Torah

When we visualize things that are holy, we often look to the big, beautifully choreographed wedding, bar mitzvah, or confirmation ceremony. We conjure up the High Holy Day service, accompanied by the cantor's dramatic chanting and the rich, polished performances of instrumentalists and choir. We are filled with awe, a sense of the mysterium tremendum , and the memory of experiences that seem to lift us high above the ordinary.

It is easy to forget, however, that each of those moments requires monumental effort and painstaking attention to detail behind the scenes. The wedding requires hours of preparations with respect to the wedding dress, tuxedo, floral arrangements, musical selections, composition of the wedding party, invitations, design and making of the chuppah, counseling sessions with the rabbi, content of the ketubah , and those all-important arrangements with the caterer. The bar mitzvah demands years of preparation, mastery of Hebrew reading and cantillation, detailed knowledge of the Shabbat morning service, careful study of the meaning of one's Torah and haftarah portions, preparation of a sermon, selecting those to be called up for aliyot , preparing those all-important parental words of praise, and choreographing the hakafah and all traffic on the bimah. Similar care must be taken with the flowers, robes, speeches, Torah readings, and projects for confirmation. And effortless High Holy Day services require hours of choir rehearsals; rabbinic "sermon-agony;" a bevy of phone calls, letters, and e-mails regarding pulpit honors; lessons plans for the children's services; shofar-blowing workshops; bread crumbs for Tashlich; memorial booklets for Yizkor; and the often-maddening details of distributing parts and maintaining contact with those receiving pulpit honors.

This is how it was with the ancient priests. While the sacrificial rituals, as well as those of ordination, were filled with pomp and drama, behind the scenes, priests had to contend with a variety of mundane and repetitious tasks, including removing ashes from the altar and stoking the perpetual fire. These duties were not entrusted to other Levites or to laypeople; they were an inherent responsibility of the priesthood. Moreover, while this work involved a good deal of drudgery, as well as a change of clothing, it was also sacred work; the ashes were those of the olah , the "burnt offering." A remnant of the sacred interface of God and Israel, it required special attire, special handling, and burial in a makom tahor, "a ritually pure place." Similarly, "feeding" the fire prior to placement of the olah upon the altar and stoking the perpetual fire were arduous and messy tasks. Yet here, too, the priests were dealing with sacred objects, integral not only to the sacrificial rituals, but also to the very function of the Mishkan as divinely ordained sacred space.

For Reform Jews, today, the recognition of "sacred drudgery" holds great significance, particularly when we think of the Jewish home. Anyone who has put together a Passover seder knows how arduous the preparations are. Even the act of preparing one's kitchen for Pesach requires days of organizing and planning, and hours upon hours of scrubbing; boiling; vacuuming; cleansing; packing and unpacking sets of dishes, pots, and utensils; washing and cleaning same; cleaning and lining shelves; removing boxes, cans, and packages of chameitz; shopping for matzot and kosher-for-Passover items; and cooking and freezing dishes in advance. Contending with the myriad details of the seder can prove almost overwhelming. Yet I have met few Jews who have not felt the experience to be extremely spiritual and sacred, and most observe the traditional halachic instruction that we ourselves, and not our "hired help," are to engage in this process. As with Shabbat, these preparations help connect us more deeply and more completely to the meaning of the chag , and to the rituals of our kitchen and dining room table as that of a mikdash m'at , a "miniature sanctuary."

The same principle applies to any mitzvah, be it ritual, ethical, or communal. When we are willing to perform it fully, even when it requires a considerable amount of drudgery and schlepping, we create sacred space that permits God to dwell among us.

By the Way

• Where He [the priest] wore his sacred robes even to remove the ashes from the altar, to indicate his complete dedication. Not even this menial labor could impair his priestly dignity, since it was performed as a ministry to God. (Bachya ben Asher, quoted in The Torah: A Modern Commentary, Revised Edition , general editor, W. Gunther Plaut; general editor, revised edition, David E. S. Stein [New York: URJ Press, 2005], p. 699)
   
• Rashi explains as follows: "And he shall put off his garments": This is not obligatory, but a salutary habit to avoid soiling his ritual garments when removing residual ashes. The servant should not wait upon his master in his kitchen clothes, therefore: "and put on other garments" — inferior ones. (Nehama Leibowitz,Studies in Vayikra , vol. 1 [Jerusalem: World Zionist Organization, 1993], p. 67)
   
• Rabbi S. R. Hirsch further elaborates: The daily service begins with the lifting of the ashes, terumat hadeshen, recalling the previous day's service and their unfailing remembrance before God. However, the clearing away of the ashes signifies that each new day renews our commitment to comply with all that is incumbent upon us. We must perform our daily observance of the mitzvot with a new zest, as if we had never performed them before. (Ibid, p. 69)

Your Guide

1. How does Bachya ben Asher's discussion of the priest's clothing during the removal of ashes from the altar compare with that of Rashi? Are they necessarily contradictory? If we recognize the validity of both commentaries, what do they reveal about the nature of the ancient priesthood?


2. In reflecting on Rabbi S. R. Hirsch's commentary, what does the ritual of terumat hadeshen teach us about the relationship between continuity and renewal? Are they mutually exclusive?


3. As we reflect on both the d'var Torah and its commentaries, what lesson do we learn about both the nature of mitzvot and the Jew who is obligated in its performance?

Rabbi Burt E. Schuman is rabbi emeritus of Temple Beth Israel, Altoona, Pennsylvania.